


Power Settings May Vary

by forthegreatergood



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't know how to use the microwave.  Neither does anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power Settings May Vary

**Author's Note:**

> All characters property of Marvel.
> 
> Not beta-read. Please post any noticed errors in the comments, and they'll get fixed.

Steve stared at the microwave and frowned. “How, exactly, do I work this thing again?”

“It’s a microwave, Steve.” Clint leaned against the other side of the bar and snickered. “You don’t work them. You put things in them, push one of the buttons that turns them on right away, and pray.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” He glanced back at Clint, waiting for the glint in his eye and the beginnings of a smirk that would let him know Clint was messing with him.

“There’s nothing right about microwaves. They’re dark portals. Somebody sold their soul for the basic idea, made a mint off it, and died. General Electric and Whirlpool and Sunbeam all have a legion of alchemists making new models that run off slightly less evil magic, but they still can’t get the convenience-to-inconvenience ratio better than 10-to-9.5.”

“Uh- _huh_.” Steve crossed his arms. “So which of the magic buttons do I push to make my coffee heat up?”

“Depends. Do you want it tepid, or boiling?” Clint asked, his expression dead serious.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Natasha, how do I work the microwave?”

“What are you trying to microwave?” she sighed, getting up. She tossed her magazine down on the couch where she’d been sitting and elbowed Clint out of the way. “Just coffee?”

“Yes. I’m trying to use a modern appliance to reheat my coffee, and I’m getting a story about dark wizardry.” He shot Clint an aggravated look. “It’s a little annoying.”

“Hit popcorn.”

“No! ‘Popcorn’ burns everything,” Clint protested. “Don’t give me that look, Steve. The first and only time we used the popcorn setting, it set half the bag on fire and left the other half cold.”

“The popcorn setting only burns popcorn,” Natasha snorted. “And dark magic wouldn’t be the worst explanation I’ve heard for microwaves.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there a manual I could read or something?”

“It didn’t come with a manual.”

“Well, that’s not quite true. It came with a manual, originally, but whoever installs them always throws them away before you can read them. So it got recycled before Tony even opened this floor.” Clint tapped his fingertips against the counter. “Come to think of it, they might spontaneously vanish after twenty-four hours. I’ve never been able to find one more than a day or two after the box was opened.”

“Surely that’s the sort of thing you can just,” he gestured at his phone, “download from the internet?”

“I suppose you could try,” Natasha ventured. “All the other manuals for these appliances are in Korean with a warning not to attempt bathing with them due to the risk of electrocution. I’d recommend you just hit the popcorn button. Be sure to hit cancel after about forty-five seconds, though, or it’ll burn your tongue.”

“Or we could use the time and power settings,” Steve sighed. “Forty-five seconds, you said?”

He hit the time button, pressed the four and five keys, then hit the power button. Natasha arched an eyebrow at him when he looked up.

“Why is it asking me for the time again? I already programmed that part.”

“It’s not asking you _for_ the time, it’s asking you to _set_ the time,” Clint laughed. “As in, reset the clock.”

“Why does it need to know what time it is just to microwave my coffee for forty-five seconds?” he asked. “And is everyone putting in this much effort all the time just to avoid setting the clock?”

“We don’t know, and we tried setting the clock. It doesn’t work.” Natasha shook her head. “Bruce spent ten minutes trying the first week he moved in.”

“He had to spend an hour out on the patio meditating to recover,” Clint added. 

“You suggesting his inability to set the clock on a microwave contributed to the initial gamma-radiation incident might have had something to do with that,” Natasha pointed out.

“It was a joke! I know these things are the devil. And I apologized profusely.”

Steve made a mental note never to ask Bruce about the baked potato setting. “And that was the end of that?”

“Thor finally fixed it. By asking it politely,” Natasha told him. 

“Because he’s a Disney princess,” Clint clarified.

“So why doesn’t it still work?” Steve had a feeling he’d regret asking that question, and his hunch was immediately confirmed by the grin that split Clint’s face.

“Power went out a week after he left. Reset the whole thing.”

“Have you considered asking Tony how it works?” Steve groaned.

“Asking Tony how what works?” Tony called from the hallway. He swept around the corner and started depositing packages on the counter. “Does anyone remember where we’re keeping the pasta now? It keeps migrating around the cabinets.”

Clint and Natasha exchanged an amused glance.

“The microwave,” Steve said, before Tony could ask them what was so funny.

“Pfft. The microwave.” Tony waved a hand airily, his smile turning fixed. “I never use the thing.”

“Please tell me you don’t use the lab to reheat leftovers. You’ll wind up poisoning yourself.” Steve’s brows furrowed. “Or blowing us all up. I’m not sure which I’m more concerned about.”

“No, I don’t use the lab. Anymore.” Tony coughed. “There were, in fact, a few hygiene and safety issues that it caused. No, I heat things up on the range, the old-fashioned way. Much more satisfying. It’s _like_ cooking, but without all the _effort_ of cooking. I wouldn’t use a microwave these days if you paid me. Takes all the fun out of it.”

“And you can’t figure it out either,” Natasha added.

Tony glared at her. “I could if I wanted to. I’m just too busy dragging humanity into the next century to worry about a piece of tech that fooled people into thinking it was a good idea in the ‘70s and we’ve been too stubborn to give up on since then. Besides, if I ever get that desperate for a plate of food that’s overcooked around the edges and still raw in the middle, I trust JARVIS to be able to replicate the effect.”

“So nobody knows how to use this thing?” Steve asked.

“Ehn. Just hit the ‘popcorn’ button and then punch ‘cancel’ after like a minute,” Tony said.


End file.
